


Siren Song

by fried_flamingo



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Major Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:49:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fried_flamingo/pseuds/fried_flamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh's POV during 'In the Shadow of Two Gun Men'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siren Song

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot that was posted on Livejournal a while back. Part of my re-archiving project.

The first thing he feels is panic. 

Acid churning in the pit of his stomach, bitter metal flooding his mouth and a slow, insidious tightening of his skin that pre-empts a fear he never thought he‘d feel again. He is aware of each hair on his arms and neck as they bristle under his once starched shirt. 

Suddenly the world is strange and dreamlike and he thinks maybe he didn’t really get out of bed that morning. Reality splinters in a series of sharp, echoing cracks whose origin he can’t quite fathom but his gut tells him they signal danger. 

So he dives, clinging to the railings because he thinks gravity might fail him and he’ll fall off the face of the Earth. Black suits scatter across his field of vision and some of them are bundling a short man with a kind face into a car. He squints at the man, searching his memory, because he thinks he should know him -- should know his name. But then the car door slams shut and focus is pulled back to the surrounding chaos. 

His legs feel steadier now and he’s almost certain he won’t go hurtling into space so he lets go of the railings, feeling the pressure ebb from his aching knuckles, and he stands.

The next thing he feels is an impact. 

Something collides with his chest, halting the breath in his throat, turning his body cold and he thinks that maybe someone punched him. But when he look around he finds that he’s alone. 

He touches the spot where it hurts and his hand comes away dark and wet and that’s when his legs stop working, like they’re sick of holding his body upright. He finds himself collapsing and for a second he’s unsure whether he’s moving up or down. Perhaps the gravity thing actually happened, he thinks, and he’ll end up in orbit with the remnants of Mir, but instead of space he feels concrete, hard and cold, against his back.

His vision begins to falter and he struggles to keep a handle on what’s going on around him. 

He’s aware of a smell; a burning, sulphuric stench that scorches the air and for some reason it makes him think of popcorn. 

There are voices, but they’re distant, growing fainter all the time and he’s not even sure if anyone knows he’s there. So he tries to speak, to cry out and let someone know he needs help, but his lips and tongue only manage to form the ‘D…’ before his energy dissipates. He doesn’t think any sound came out anyway.

Then he hears footsteps on the stone steps behind him and someone’s coming. At last, someone’s coming. 

The voice might be Toby’s but it’s so hard to concentrate and there are so many faces surrounding him it’s difficult to keep track. And he’s sinking, falling through the ground; everything seems so far away and he thinks that maybe this is space after all. Still he struggles, fighting to keep a grip on the last remaining threads of consciousness, scanning the heads in front of him for a wisp of blond. But it’s not there and that’s when he realises he truly is alone.

The last thing he hears is the wail of the sirens, a mournful banshee howl that ebbs and flows in time with his shallow breaths. His final thought as the blackness takes him is of nothing but the noise.

And he thinks it sounds like music.


End file.
